Feature Story
More on creativity
Let’s Play Hockey Columnist
“We can’t do business as usual for six
months if we’re going to beat the Russians in February,” said Herb Brooks, as
he explained his philosophy to coaches in the summer of 1979. “We have college
stars, and our job is to get them to play as a team. But never forget … it
won’t be enough if that’s all we do.”
“Each one has a little kid inside who
wants to try creative plays,” Brooks continued. “Defensemen want to be Bobby
Orr and forwards think they’ll be Gordie Howe.
Remember this: ‘Keep it simple’ is not in our vocabulary. They all have
egos, and our job is to let them know their individual goals are OK — in fact,
necessary if the team is going anywhere. If we allow every player to grow —
while we also build a sound team strategy — then we might be able to compete in
the Olympics.”
It’s that first part that we often forget
as coaches. If dreams are really big, we have two jobs: helping each player
become the best he/she can be, and putting the individuals together in a way
that creates synergy.
Preparing to shut down the most potent
offense in the history of international hockey — stopping the Soviet attack —
was no ordinary dream. Those who prepared by emphasizing defensive systems
exclusively, had no chance; and year after year, the Russians made them look
like PeeWees. Good defense would be essential, but
not enough.
Puck control was — and is — a critical
element in success. In the
Brooks’ teams — and the individual
players — were always better at the end of the season than at the beginning.
The same would be said for teams coached by John Wooden. Imagine in college
basketball winning the Final Four — the NCAA Championship — 10 out of 12 years.
Incredible.
Excellent basketball programs would be
proud getting to the Final Four once or twice in their history — let alone
winning it all. So you’d think more folks would coach like Wooden. His
philosophy was: the team that makes the MOST mistakes (in-season)
would eventually win. He explained, “This indicates that players are taking the
initiative — trying more. Eventually, that aggressive philosophy brings out the
best in each player.”
When amateurs were the only players
allowed to compete in Olympic hockey, the preparatory season was ideal for
development. First, they had a dream — a bunch of college kids trying to
achieve a miracle. Second, they were acknowledged college stars who had
confidence in their own abilities. They just had to learn how to compete at a
higher level, and they were eager to learn.
Perhaps most importantly, the season
won/loss record meant nothing. It was all about winning in February at the
Olympics. Given this lack of pressure, it was possible to plan for extremely
tough conditioning and recovery in the middle of the schedule. Furthermore,
there was almost no fear of failure to inhibit trial and error.
The lack of pressure encouraged players
to try new things, even at critical times in games. This creativity led to
improvement of team and individual skills, as well as spontaneous
decision-making. As skills improved, of course, there were fewer failures with
the puck. Players also learned which plays were just not worth the gamble. By
February the trial-and-errors had mostly become trial-and-success, so coaches
weren’t risking disaster by encouraging creativity with the puck.
Imagine the
improvement, if in youth hockey we didn’t focus so much on wins and losses, but
valued more the development of individual and team skills. For youth coaches
who have the courage of conviction — and support of parents after your second
consecutive loss — consider this story. Lou Vairo
coached the 1984 Olympic team in
Not all endings are golden. This story is
about reality, not magic.
A few years before getting the Olympic
job, Vairo coached the USHL junior team based in
So prior to his first season in
When the season began, players were shocked
to learn that Lou was committed more to their individual improvement than to
winning early games. He encouraged them to try anything — anytime — and no one
was chastised for mistakes. Like Wooden and Brooks, Vairo
wasn’t concerned about mistakes of commission. He wanted to
eliminate mistakes of omission — leaving something untried.
They practiced long and hard each day,
determined to make a modified system of Soviet-style hockey fit within the
ultra-traditional United States Hockey League. There were many early losses, as
you’d expect, but by mid-season,
At the end of the year, I watched a
playoff game between Austin and a team that had beaten them consistently early
in the season. By now players were comfortable with Vairo’s
philosophy, and their skills had improved to the point where they might be
mistaken for a Russian junior team. The final score was something like 10-1,
and puck possession was proportional.
I told him I’d write about it, and it’s
taken a couple decades to fulfill the promise. For the coaches in the real
world of amateur hockey, you’re a winner — without any trophies to prove it —
when your players look back at the experience and say, “This was the greatest.”
Jack Blatherwick,
Ph.D., is a physiologist for the